Before the Hero
by Forever-Tangled
Summary: Collection of one-shots or mini-series about the team before they met! Rated K . Disclaimer: I don't own Big Hero 6.
1. Chapter 1: Hiro, Tiny Genius

Aunt Cass hummed as she trotted down the stairs, exiting her apartment and immediately arriving at her cafe, the Lucky Cat. She enjoyed the short commute time! She started to flip on the lights, singing some song from the '70s with wild abandon. Nobody was there to hear her, after all! Opening time was in about...fifty minutes. It gave her plenty of time to fuel up on coffee and get some treats started in the oven so the early birds would get fresh pastries.  
A clatter sounded from the kitchen. Freezing, she turned wide eyes towards the swinging door. Was it a rat? She'd had a rodent problem several years ago, but since Mochi had come to live with them, she hadn't seen as much as a chewed box. A more sinister thought made her skin crawl, so she grabbed an empty platter from the front counter, easing her way into the kitchen. If she had to clobber someone before calling 911, she would.  
Her heart pounded. Her hands shook. Anticipation, or probably more accurately, adrenaline and fear, surged through her body. She pulled back with the platter-  
"Don't! It's me, Aunt Cassie!"  
She dropped the platter. Hiro Hamada...of course. Her four-year-old nephew. She'd been the legal guardian of him and his eleven-year-old brother for a year. The young boy was sitting on the floor like a frog, a screwdriver in his hand as he tore apart her beloved, new mixer. A blender lay beside him, already ravaged.  
"What are you doing, Hiro? It's five o'clock in the morning!" she put her hands on her hips. How did a five year old, first of all, get the mixer off of the counter, and second of all, deconstruct it? And what was he building?  
"I'm making a 'bot like Tadashi showed me how!" he grinned, exposing his endearing tooth gap.  
"I, ah, see that now. Why did you use the mixer? And..the blender?"  
"I needed some stuff," he shrugged as if that was a normal thing to do.  
"How long have you been awake?" she asked, squatting to see the mostly-assembled robot he showed her.

The little boy shrugged. "Didn't sleep."  
Cass groaned inwardly. A five year old who hadn't slept. Today was going to be a long day, she already knew that. "Uh oh. Well, why don't you head up to bed now, and you can work on that later?"  
He shook his head, his thick black hair flopping into his eyes. "I'm _almost _done, Aunt Cassie!"  
"I know you are, but you'll do a better job when you're rested up!" Cass grinned, brushing his hair away from his eyes.  
"No I won't. I'm not tired, so I wouldn't do any better of a job than I already am. Plus, I'll lose my place." Hiro explained.  
Sometimes, Aunt Cass wondered if something was wrong with the young boy. He was way too smart.  
"Okay. Well, you can finish up, I guess, and I'll...go to the store and use my company credit card to get another mixer and blender..." she yawned and rubbed her forehead. The kitchen supply store people probably wondered how she could have worn out a mixer in two weeks, because that one lying on the floor had been _brand new. _

Hiro stuck his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, tweaking a couple of things on the small robot. "Wait 'til I show Tadashi! Thanks, aunt Cassie."  
"For...?"  
"Letting me use the mixer and stuff," he beamed up at her, stood up, and then took off up the stairs, yelling " 'Dashi! 'Dashi! Wait'll I show you what I made!"  
How could she be mad at him? She sighed, deciding to leave the mangled machines on the floor until she came home.


	2. Chapter 2: Honey Lemon

"Honey, what are you doing?"  
The little girl paused. She slipped the garden hose behind her back, kicking it down the stairs before her mother saw it.  
"Mama, I'm just building something!" she smiled, pushing her thick-rimmed pink glasses up further on her nose.  
"What is it?" Her mother asked, and she heard footsteps.  
Before her mother could come, she dashed down the stairs, slamming the door tightly. Puffing, she dragged the hose over to the table. She knew her parents didn't think she should be into science, so she didn't let on that she was building a chemistry lab in their own, rarely used basement.  
She moved quickly, brushing her silky blonde hair behind her ear as she attached the garden hose to several other various household items. Then, she grabbed a measuring glass full of water and dumped half of it into one end. She watched with eager eyes as the water disappeared into a plastic cup, went through the hand-cut hole into one tube, then traveled into another cup, which dripped down into another tube, then finally entering the short section of garden hose; finally dripping out into a final, glass cup.  
"Success!" she squealed, jumping up and down and clapping. "Perfection! It's perfection!"

The door creaked open, and she froze, clapping a hand over her mouth. She'd been too loud!  
Her father, a tall man with dark skin and hair, paused in the doorway. "Abigail, what is this?" His strong accent tinted his words.  
"A, ah, a chemistry...a chemistry lab of sorts. I made it by myself," she drew herself to her full five-foot-three-inches-inches height; sort of tall for a thirteen year old.  
He nodded. "I see that. How did you get all of this?"  
"My allowances for the past..." she counted on her fingers. "Three months, I think? Watch, papa, it works! It works really well!" She took the measuring cup and used the other half.  
"Very rudimentary, but yes, it works," her father mused. "When did you build this, though? Should you not be doing homework or talking with friends in your free time? I thought that's what you've been doing all this time."  
"No," she paused, wringing her fingers. "You see, I didn't think you or mama would be too keen on the idea, so I just did it myself and _said_ I was with friends or doing my homework. Not like I didn't do my homework too, though, I always did it and then slipped down here to work awhile."

Her father shook his head. "Abby, you know how your mother feels about your science interests. It won't help you any in the future-"  
"But papa, it _will_! Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I can't pursue careers in the sciences. They won't discriminate against me just 'cause I'm a girl. I _know _it won't!"  
"But you'll get ridiculed for it. It would be much better to be an artist, or musician; you play the guitar and can draw well!"  
"But they're not my passion," she shook her head. "I love science, papa. And that's that."  
He sat on the edge of her table, sighing. "I know. That's why I've been working on your mother to let you go to San Fransokyo High, instead of the private girl's school you're going to now. She just really wants you to go into a different career when you get older."  
"A job isn't a job if you enjoy doing it," she countered. "I don't want to be miserable. But-but going back to the chemistry lab, you aren't mad?"  
"I'm impressed, in all honesty. And I think that your mother may very well be swayed by it if we show it to her-"  
Alarm flashed across her face. "She'll make me tear it down-"  
"She's not as cruel as you might make her out to be, sweetie. She won't make you get rid of it, I'll make sure she won't," he paused and then smiled at her. "And in all honesty, you're a very smart girl. If you can get into the science fields, you'll go far."  
"I've had straight A's in all my science courses since first grade," she said. "I _know _I could get into the science fields! One of my friend's sisters went into biology and she has a job already. Science isn't just for boys."  
"It isn't," he agreed. "And we'll be proud, I suppose, if you're successful in science. But what will you do when you move up into San Fransokyo High? You'll have too much work to bother with your chemistry lab."  
"Pshh!" she waved it off with a giggle. "Homework's easy. If you let me go to San Fransokyo High, I'll show you how quickly I'll excel!" she grinned, glancing back at her lab with pride.  
"We'll see about enrollment in the fall. Or rather, I'll see if I can convince your mama," he held his arms out to his daughter.  
She ran into his arms, grinning. That conversation had gone far better than she'd expected! Her high hopes were mounting, and she really, _really _couldn't wait to go to San Fransokyo High - let alone go to college for _science! _She wrapped her skinny arms around his torso and giggled. "Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you!"  
He chuckled, patting her back. "Don't thank me yet. You have me convinced, but you don't have your mother convinced."  
"Will my puppy-dog pout work?" she asked.  
"I wouldn't try it," he patted her head and kissed her forehead.


	3. Chapter 3: Wasabi

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews, favorites, follows, and suggestions, everyone!  
This one-shot was requested by AwesomeWriter2013; and Vanillart, I will be considering your suggestion as well for a later oneshot. Thanks so much, both of you!**

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, little bro. Wait up. Don't move." Seven-year-old Peter, a skinny little boy with chocolate skin and short, curly black hair, held his hands out to his three year old brother. His brother, Sam, stared at him with wide, brownish eyes as he left go of the cookie jar. Peter, who wasn't much taller than his much younger brother, got the heavy, ceramic jar off of the table and held it out to him.  
"Shh, quickly, before Grammy sees us!" he hissed.

When his parents had died when Sam was three months old, in a drunk-driving accident that wasn't their fault, he'd assumed full responsibility for his little brother. He had a thirteen year old sister, too, but she had locked them both out of her world and refused to accept the reality that they now lived with their older grandmother and grandfather, who were strict and often took their anger and sadness from losing their daughter, Peter's mother, in an accident in which they were going Christmas shopping for the kids.  
Because his sister blocked him out and Sam wasn't going to raise himself while his grandparents left them alone most of the time, he did a whole lot of growing up. Some said he was old for his age, but he thought he was just the only one who cared.  
He carefully set the jar up on the table again, setting it precisely where it had been at before. He'd also gotten into the habit of setting things _just so_ so that they wouldn't get in trouble. If any object was as much of a fraction of an inch off and either grandparent noticed it, they'd get sent to bed without dinner. It was no fun. He got into the habit of drawing clumsy, erasable chalk lines around every object so he wouldn't put something amiss.

But unfortunately, Sam left crumbs as he raced for the living room.  
"Sam! Sam! Wait up, bro!" he cried quietly, brushing up the crumbs into his hand and running after his brother. "You can't show them the evidence, silly! Eat in the kitchen. Don't disturb anything...a place for everything and everything in its place, remember?"  
"Okay, Pete-y," Sam nodded quietly and hurried back to the kitchen. Peter sighed, sweeping up the crumbs his brother left behind.

After dinner, they always bathed and went to bed. Peter and Sam didn't share a room, but Peter oftentimes slept in Sam's toddler-bed; he was small enough and Sam didn't sleep well.  
"Story! Story?" Sam asked.  
"Okay. But did you wash your hands? Brush your teeth?" Peter asked his younger brother. Despite his age, he was expected to do these things without help. Sam nodded and bared his tiny rows of white teeth to show their cleanliness. "Good job. What story should we read?"  
"Peter Cottontail, Peter!" he cried.  
Peter laughed. "That one again? We read it two days ago."  
"I know. But it's my favorite." Sam turned his wide, brown eyes up at his brother, blinking and using an over-exaggerated puppy-dog pout.  
"Fine! Fine. I'm getting it," Peter jumped up and went to the small bookshelf in the room, where the book was. He read carefully, showing Sam certain words and helping him learn how to pronounce them; and of course, ensuring to not as much as wrinkle or dog-ear a page. The kids' books never got scrutinized like the rest of the house's items were, but you could never be too safe with these things. Finally, when Sam fell asleep, he set the book precisely where he'd gotten it on the shelf and tucked Sam into bed before crawling into the bed himself, letting his younger brother bury his face in his scrawny shoulder.


	4. Chapter 4: Mochi

**Tadashi: Age 14  
Hiro: Age 7**

It was a normal day, really. Tadashi had picked Hiro up from his fourth-grade classes just awhile ago, and they were trotting down the sidewalk, headed for Aunt Cass' cafe.  
"What're you doing today, Tadashi?" Hiro asked, turning his face up to look at his brother's. He might have the brain of someone years older than he, but he was actually below average with his height and weight. He was skinny and short, but he wasn't too worried about his stature. There were too many other things to think about in this world than his physical appearance - hence the messy t-shirt, hair, and baggy pants.  
"Homework, bonehead," Tadashi teased. "I'm a freshman this year. Lots of homework. I'm not as smart as you, unfortunately."  
"I'll help you!" he offered.  
"It's in social studies, little bro. You're not the best in history classes, sorry, so I'm gonna have to let that offer slide."  
As Hiro fake-pouted (but secretly knew he'd get his brother distracted from homework anyway, so they could build bots), he turned his head away and stomped his feet through a puddle of rainwater. He continued splashing and scraping his feet through the wet, but then Tadashi put a hand firmly on his shoulder.  
"Sh. Be quiet a minute, bud."  
"Why?" Hiro asked loudly. "Just 'cause you think-"  
"Sh!" he put a hand over his mouth and listened.

Tadashi may or may not have been the only one to hear the faint mews coming from the box in the middle of the road, but he didn't take long to jump into action. Yelling over his shoulder for Hiro to stay put, he dodged through the traffic, grabbed up the box and tucked it under his arm, and dove back to the sidewalk and his younger brother.  
"What is it?" Hiro asked curiously, looking at his brother as he sprawled across the sidewalk and nearby grass, panting.  
"Whew, buddy, those last coupla cars were close," he lay there for a moment, his chest heaving and his clothes even more soaked than they had been before.  
"What _is it?!_" Hiro asked impatiently, staring at the box.  
"A kitten, I think," he puffed and then sat up, gingerly peeling back the box flaps.  
Sure enough, a soaked and scared little kitten, bony and very unhappy, was huddled in the box. Three other kittens were there as well, but they must have died already.  
"Is it going to die too, 'Dashi?" Hiro asked quietly. He wasn't much of one to let on to his emotions, but Tadashi knew that when he pulled out the nicknames; talked like his former three-year-old, we-just-lost-our-parents self, he was scared or upset.

"Not if I can help it," Tadashi said. "Hiro, here. You tuck this little kitten inside your hoodie and keep her there. Or do you want me to?"  
"I can," Hiro nodded, holding his hands out. The kitten barely weighed anything, so he held her gingerly, slipping his hands out of his hoodie sleeves so he could hold her carefully.  
"We'll go to the cafe and ask Aunt Cass what to do from there. Okay?"  
"Okay," Hiro nodded.

When they got to the cafe, Cass greeted them with hugs. "Hey, guys! Ooh, you're all wet. Goodness. Let's get you some warm cocoa, warm ya up."  
"Cass," Tadashi caught her attention again before she could rush off. "_Aunt _Cass, rather, ah, we found something today."  
"Did you?" she asked, turning and coming back over. "And what's that?"  
Hiro gently removed the kitten from under his hoodie, holding her out to Cass. "She's really sick and her littermates died. 'Dashi found the box in the middle of the street and saved her."  
"Did he?" Cass tsked her tongue. "Oh, boys. That was brave of you, but what were you thinking? Playing chicken with cars?"  
"I had to help her," Tadashi said quietly. He'd always been one for helping living things, but this was especially so since their parents had died.  
"I know," she said softly, taking the kitten and inspecting it. "Well, you're right that she's a girl, and she's maybe about four weeks old. We'll need to go to the pet store once I close up shop so we can get some formula and things for her. For now, get a box and put some old shirts in it, give her a cozy, dry bed. And change your own clothes, I'm not taking you smelly, sopping boys into town!" she laughed, giving Tadashi the kitten and hurrying off.

Hiro tagged along after Tadashi. "What'll we name her? She's going to be okay, right? Why did someone dump her and her littermates?"  
"We'll see," Tadashi said. "She'll be okay, though, I promise, little bro. As for why they were dumped, I don't know. Someone didn't want them anymore and didn't do the right thing, which would be taking them and their mother to the shelter. Grab some of your clothes, I know you've outgrown at least one or two shirts, and I'll find a box. 'Kay?"  
"Okay," Hiro nodded, hurrying to their room.

After the kitten was dried, her fluffy fur shone as white, orange, and black, but she was scared and just huddled in the corner of the box, hissing.  
"She's scared, Hiro, we've gotta let her alone for awhile. We need to change and see if Aunt Cass is ready to go yet anyway," Tadashi warned Hiro, who couldn't seem to stay out of the box.  
"What'll we name her?" Hiro asked again.  
"I don't know. Mochi. Cupcake. Something with food. I don't know," Tadashi shrugged off Hiro's question, not wanting him to name the kitten just yet, just in case it didn't live.  
"Mochi!" Hiro cried. "You're brilliant, Tadashi!"  
So much for that idea. Tadashi ruffled his brother's hair before shoving him teasingly. "Alright, but don't get too excited or too attached."  
"I won't," he shook his head. "You know I'm too cool for that."  
"Right," Tadashi rolled his eyes and grinned.


End file.
